A large proportion of all Hebrew books is ethical. Many of the works
already treated here fall under this category. The Talmudical,
exegetical, and philosophical writings of Jews were also ethical
treatises. In this chapter, however, attention will be restricted to a
few books which are in a special sense ethical.

Collections of moral proverbs, such as the “Choice of Pearls,"
attributed to Ibn Gebirol, and the “Maxims of the Philosophers” by
Charizi, were great favorites in the Middle Ages. They had a distinct
charm, but they were not original. They were either compilations from
older books or direct translations from the Arabic. It was far otherwise
with the ethical work entitled “Heart Duties” (Choboth ha-Lebaboth),
by Bachya Ibn Pekuda (about 1050-1100). This was as original as it was
forcible. Bachya founded his ethical system on the Talmud and on the
philosophical notions current in his day, but he evolved out of these
elements an original view of life. The inner duties dictated by
conscience were set above all conventional morality. Bachya probed the
very heart of religion. His soul was filled with God, and this
communion, despite the ascetic feelings to which it gave rise, was to
Bachya an exceeding joy. His book thrills the reader with the author’s
own chastened enthusiasm. The “Heart Duties” of Bachya is the most
inspired book written by a Jew in the Middle Ages.

In part worthy of a place by the side of Bachya’s treatise is an ethical
book written in the Rhinelands during the thirteenth century. “The Book
of the Pious” (Sefer ha-Chassidim) is mystical, and in course of time
superstitious elements were interpolated. Wrongly attributed to a single
writer, Judah Chassid, the “Book of the Pious” was really the combined
product of the Jewish spirit in the thirteenth century. It is a
conglomerate of the sublime and the trivial, the purely ethical with the
ceremonial. With this popular and remarkable book may be associated
other conglomerates of the ritual, the ethical, and the mystical, as the
Rokeach by Eleazar of Worms.

A simpler but equally popular work was Yedaiah Bedaressi’s “Examination
of the World” (Bechinath Olam), written in about the year 1310. Its
style is florid but poetical, and the many quaint turns which it gives
to quotations from the Bible remind the reader of Ibn Gebirol. Its
earnest appeal to man to aim at the higher life, its easily
intelligible and commonplace morals, endeared it to the “general reader"
of the Middle Ages. Few books have been more often printed, few more
often translated.

Another favorite class of ethical books consisted of compilations made
direct from the Talmud and the Midrash. The oldest and most prized of
these was Isaac Aboab’s “Lamp of Light” (Menorath ha-Maor). It was an
admirably written book, clearly arranged, and full to the brim of
ethical gems. Aboab’s work was written between 1310 and 1320. It is
arranged according to subjects, differing in this respect from another
very popular compilation, Jacob Ibn Chabib’s “Eye of Jacob” (En
Yaakob), which was completed in the sixteenth century. In this, the
Hagadic passages of the Talmud are extracted without arrangement, the
order of the Talmud itself being retained. The “Eye of Jacob” was an
extremely popular work.

Of the purely devotional literature of Judaism, it is impossible to
speak here. One other ethical book must be here noticed, for it has
attained wide and deserved popularity. This is the “Path of the Upright"
(Messilath Yesharim) by Moses Chayim Luzzatto, of whom more will be
said in a later chapter. But a little more space must be here devoted to
a species of ethical tract which was peculiar to Jewish moralists. These
tracts were what are known as Ethical Wills.

These Ethical Wills (Zevaoth) contained the express directions of
fathers to their children or of aged teachers to their disciples. They
were for the most part written calmly in old age, but not immediately
before the writers’ death. Some of them were very carefully composed,
and amount to formal ethical treatises. But in the main they are
charmingly natural and unaffected. They were intended for the absolutely
private use of children and relatives, or of some beloved pupil who
held the dearest place in his master’s regard. They were not designed
for publication, and thus, as the writer had no reason to expect that
his words would pass beyond a limited circle, the Ethical Will is a
clear revelation of his innermost feelings and ideals. Intellectually
some of these Ethical Wills are poor; morally, however, the general
level is very high.

Addresses of parents to their children occur in the Bible, the
Apocrypha, and the Rabbinical literature. But the earliest extant
Ethical Will written as an independent document is that of Eleazar, the
son of Isaac of Worms (about 1050), who must not be confused with the
author of the Rokeach. The eleventh and twelfth centuries supply few
examples of the Ethical Will, but from the thirteenth century onwards
there is a plentiful array of them. “Think not of evil,” says Eleazar of
Worms, “for evil thinking leads to evil doing.... Purify thy body, the
dwelling-place of thy soul.... Give of all thy food a portion to God.
Let God’s portion be the best, and give it to the poor.” The will of the
translator Judah Ibn Tibbon (about 1190) contains at least one passage
worthy of Ruskin: “Avoid bad society, make thy books thy companions, let
thy book-cases and shelves be thy gardens and pleasure-grounds. Pluck
the fruit that grows therein, gather the roses, the spices, and the
myrrh. If thy soul be satiate and weary, change from garden to garden,
from furrow to furrow, from sight to sight. Then will thy desire renew
itself, and thy soul be satisfied with delight.” The will of Nachmanides
is an unaffected eulogy of humility. Asher, the son of Yechiel
(fourteenth century), called his will “Ways of Life,” and it includes
132 maxims, which are often printed in the prayer-book. “Do not obey the
Law for reward, nor avoid sin from fear of punishment, but serve God
from love. Sleep not over-much, but rise with the birds. Be not
over-hasty to reply to offensive remarks; raise not thy hand against
another, even if he curse thy father or mother in thy presence.”

Some of these wills, like that of the son of the last mentioned, are
written in rhymed prose; some are controversial. Joseph Ibn Caspi writes
in 1322: “How can I know God, and that he is one, unless I know what
knowing means, and what constitutes unity? Why should these things be
left to non-Jewish philosophers? Why should Aristotle retain sole
possession of the treasures that he stole from Solomon?” The belief that
Aristotle had visited Jerusalem with Alexander the Great, and there
obtained possession of Solomon’s wisdom, was one of the most curious
myths of the Middle Ages. The will of Eleazar the Levite of Mainz (1357)
is a simple document, without literary merit, but containing a clear
exposition of duty. “Judge every man charitably, and use your best
efforts to find a kindly explanation of conduct, however suspicious....
Give in charity an exact tithe of your property. Never turn a poor man
away empty-handed. Talk no more than is necessary, and thus avoid
slander. Be not as dumb cattle that utter no word of gratitude, but
thank God for his bounties at the time at which they occur, and in your
prayers let the memory of these personal favors warm your hearts, and
prompt you to special fervor during the utterance of the communal thanks
for communal well-being. When words of thanks occur in the liturgy,
pause and silently reflect on the goodness of God to you that day.”

In striking contrast to the simplicity of the foregoing is the elaborate
“Letter of Advice” by Solomon Alami (beginning of the fifteenth
century). It is composed in beautiful rhymed prose, and is an important
historical record. For the author shared the sufferings of the Jews of
the Iberian peninsula in 1391, and this gives pathetic point to his
counsel: “Flee without hesitation when exile is the only means of
securing religious freedom; have no regard to your worldly career or
your property, but go at once.”

It is needless to indicate fully the nature of the Ethical Wills of the
sixteenth and subsequent centuries. They are closely similar to the
foregoing, but they tend to become more learned and less simple. Yet,
though as literature they are often quite insignificant, as ethics they
rarely sink below mediocrity.